His Second Life
by InkPenAndPaper
Summary: When Evelyn Mercier rescued Jack he thought he had found a secure  life, and for almost four years he had, but  with her murder and his fathers escape from prison Jacks life is once again thrown into turmoil. This was meant to be his second chance at life
1. The Introduction

Bobby Mercier chuckled softly to himself as he stood in the doorway of his brothers room. Jack Mercier was sound asleep, much to his elder brothers relief. Jackie rarely slept soundly. His bright blue eyes had dimmed and were surrounded by terrible purple shadows .It had been a trying year for the entire Mercier household following Evelyn's cruel murder. It hit Jack the hardest. He had already had so much taken from him in his short life but to have the woman who saved him from a fate worse then death brutally gunned down tore his bandaged soul in half. Jack was only seventeen, a bloody kid, and he was already cynical to the world. In his first fourteen years of life all Jack Martin had known was pain, hunger and abuse. Bobby was no newcomer when it came to abused kids, he himself was rescued from a violent father, when Evelyn brought Angel home aged 12 he had a broken nose and gigantic black bruises on his damaged face, but Jackie was a completely different story. Here was a kid who had suffered every possible pain and injury. He was the product of an inebriated night of pleasure and regret, baby Jack being the regretful part. Ryan Martin was a heroin addict who had no qualms about beating his girlfriend and son. He would use whatever came to hand, bottles, frying pans, his belt, damn his fists if he had to. When Michelle, Jacks junkie mother, was no longer earning enough cash from prostituting Ryan pimped out his ten year old son. There was no level to which this man would not sink. By the time Jackie was fourteen he had been raped, beaten and hurt more times then he could count. He was lucky that Evelyn had even found him, she came across him purely by accident but it was an accident that would give meaning to both of their lives.

_The rain poured in and the wind howled through the cramped apartment. It was a dismal sight. The wallpaper was all but torn off showcasing the dirt smeared grey walls, the carpet was black with age and the years of neglect. There were just four rooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a bedroom and a living room, all sparsely furnished. An odour of garbage and spoiled food wafted through the small apartment, the house no longer had electricity or running water. Ryan Martin would rather spend his girlfriend and sons money on alcohol and narcotics. Jack as he did not have a room was permitted to sleep on the living room floor. Placing his cold hands over his ears he attempted to drown out the sounds coming from his mothers bedroom but it was no use. Even when he could not hear the noises she made he heard the noises he himself would make when he was…working. He saw sex everywhere he went, there was no such thing as just a hug or kiss, no one did something for nothing. He stood up to leave when he heard the front door bang behind him. Ryan Martin had returned to collect his money so he could go meet Donny Sweet, his dealer. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he roared at his trembling son. Jack simply stood where he was rooted to the spot, it seemed he no longer had the ability to speak. Ryan advanced on the fourteen year old, who quickly backed himself into the corner. " I said what the fuck are you doing here?" the man screamed enunciating each word with a harrowing slap to the face. " You're supposed to be out working you little slut" Grabbing his son by the neck he proceeded to press on his wind pipe. Jack kicked with all his might, but the man was twice his age and size, he didn't stand a chance. He attempted to scream but all that came was a mangled croak, and then the brute released the child's throat. Gulping in huge quantities of air Jack tries to stand but his head was rotating with dizziness. " Get up you slut and go make daddy some money" he heard his father jeer. All he wanted was to get up and go but his body was failing him, he could not even stand. He was not surprised though as he never got what he wanted, he didn't even get what he needed . He felt his father place a large hand around his neck, then drag him to the door and using his boot kick him onto the sodden sidewalk. " Get going hustler" he called as he slammed the peeling door behind him. With a pain filled groan Jack lifted himself from the concrete sidewalk and began the short walk to Detroit's notorious red-light district. As he stood shivering in an old warehouse doorway waiting for the customers he took in his dismal surroundings. Hookers and rent boys whistled at passing cars, barely dressed and barely sixteen. They all had the same looks on their pitiful faces. Worn out, drug addicted and abused these kids wished for their suffering to end, to just fade away and not have to think or feel or even breathe anymore. They had committed some unspeakable acts that they should never have had to even consider at their young ages and there was no going back for them now. They would live, work and die on the streets of Detroit. The boy was pulled out of his musings by the honk of a blue, parked car. He sighed to himself, pulled his freezing hands from his pockets and with more courage than he had, walked over to the car. Pushing his head in the open window he saw a young man in the drivers seat. He was thirty maybe thirty five with dark greying hair and a receding hairline. Tall and well built, a chequered shirt proudly outlined his prominent pecs and six-pack. " Get in" a gruff voice demanded. Jack took one last withering look around as if by some miracle someone would come to his rescue, but no one came, no one cared. What was one little boys suffering in a world of suffering? So with a sigh of defeat he forced himself into the car with the stranger._


	2. The Rescue

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, its really nice to know that other people appreciate your work.

**Leriana: **Thanks for the advice, you were absolutly right about the need for line breaks. Im new to fanfiction and really appreciate constructive criticism. Im not quite sure that I have got the hang of the line breakage yet but im getting there.

**Enjoy**

_It was a long drive and Jack was becoming increasingly nervous. He was always frightened but more so when the John was as physically well built as this man. If things turned nasty escape would be difficult._

_After what seemed like an age they pulled up outside one of Detroit's many seedy dilapidated motels. These places made Jacks skin crawl, the years of abuse had further proved Jacks theory that everything came down to sex and that it was the be all, end all of human existence, for it seemed to him that no one came here to sleep. _

_The place was surrounded by semi naked women, lecherous old men and constant, brutal, degrading noise. The flashing red neon sign with a missing "D" told the frightened boy that he was at the Sweet Dreams motel. "Get out" the young man growled. The man began to move swiftly between the parked cars and trucks until he reached room number 17. Jack stood in the doorway praying for a miracle to come and save him, but he guessed God probably didn't listen to whores; so swallowing his pride he crossed the divide simply praying to die._

_The room was your average cockroach infested cesspool. Jack always wondered why people chose to have sex in such filthy, morally corrupt surroundings, then again sex was no loving gentle act, on the contrary it was a shameful, degrading affair where grown men used children to satisfy their needs. _

_Once again he was pulled from his thoughts by a gruff "get on your knees". The man now completely naked slammed the door shut engulfing Jack in darkness. All that could be heard were the unanswered screams of a hopeless boy. Bruised and bloody Jack lay on the floor. It seemed sex was not enough for this guy. After brutally taking him he had burned his arm with a cigar several times, beaten him with his belt and photographed him. Large tears rolled down the child's face as he bled on the dusty floor. _

_ It was around this time that a Miss Evelyn Mercier wandered around the dark complex. She often came to motels at night to pass around coffee and sandwiches to anyone who would take them. She was no fool. Well aware that a stern but maternal lecture would have little effect she opted for a helpful gesture. Perhaps if these unfortunate people did not have to buy food that night they could maybe take tomorrow night off. It was unlikely yes but Evelyn simply wanted to help. She had a heart made of gold and saw beauty in everyone. She did not see colour or religion, occupation or sexuality, she just saw people. Bobby often thought the world was to sinful a place to have sheltered an angel. _

_ It was during her coffee round that she heard the harrowing screams echoing in the car park. This must not have been an unusual occurrence for no one seemed to bat an eyelid. The elderly woman ran to the door from which the awful cries emanated. _

_Pushing open the door her hand flew to her mouth as she struggled to take in the gruesome sight. A child lay on the floor, covered in vibrant red welts. His arms bore the unmistakeable marks of a cigar or cigarette and his legs and ribs were a deep purple. Sandy-blond hair fell into blackened eyes and he was naked save for a pair of raggedy striped boxers. This kid should have been in bed resting before school in the morning, but here he was, broken on the floor of a slimy motel. _

_Evelyn did not know who this boy was, how he had fallen into such a trap or even if had a family but she was sure of one thing; wherever this boy had come from, he was not going back._


	3. The Nightmares return

**A/N Thanks for all lovely reviews guys.**

**I was rereading my first two chapters to make sure my spelling was correct and I realised I was spelling the familys surname wrong. I was spelling it Mercier instead of Mercer. Sorry about that.**

**Enjoy**

_It took the ambulance aproximatly thirty minutes to arrive and in that time Evelyn Mercer did not leave the boys side. Though he did not regain conciousness he jerked and groaned on the floor and the woman could barely begin to contemplate the trauma this child was reliving._

_ All of her boys had come from abusive broken homes but never in all of her days had she seen the likes of this. She could not bring herself to understand how a parent could reduce their child to this. The figure lying beside her was not a boy, he was a shattered, trembling wreak; a shadow of what he could have been. _

_Evelyn was unsure that she was capable of catering to his needs. She was experienced in the field of abandoned neglected children but she was conscious of her condition. She was no longer a young woman and with Jerry playing happy families, Bobby constantly on the road and Angels shock revelation that he was joining the army, her older brother plan was no longer applicable. However, she was all to aware that throwing such a defeated child into the system would do no good. It would chew him up and spit him out. If he did not run away immediately he would only return to this life when he aged out. A child like this needed a home, family and attention. _

_It would not be easy but from the moment she laid eyes on him she knew he was a Mercer._

So here they were, almost four years later. Evelyn had rescued Jack from his life and given him the opportunity of a new one. She had been his saviour, protector and provider all in one, but now she was gone. The person who had shown him that life could be fun and people could be kind was savagely murdered.

When Sweet sent his men after Jackie it was the final proof he needed that his first assumptions had been correct. Life was cruel and people crueller.

Recovering in the hospital was an arduous affair but he was less then ecstatic about returning home. With no matriarchal figure it did not really feel like home anyway. His nightmares had made an unwelcome return. Long pointy fingers clawed at his body, scratching his face and running through his freezing hair, he would hear a spine tingling cackle sending shivers through his horrified core. Oddly enough he never recognised faces but what he did see made up for the absence. Hooded, grotesque figures cast long shadows in his mind, screaming in high pitched gruesome tongues. He would wake up, his face frozen in shock and beads of sweat forming on his body.

Bobby Mercer was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden piercing scream. Jack sat stoic in his bed, large tears coursing down his tortured face. In seconds Bobby was sitting beside him, telling him he was safe and secure. " What was it this time Jackie?" the older man whispered. The youngest Mercer was embarrassed. He hated having to talk about his past and all the shameful deeds he had done but the therapist Evelyn had forced him to visit said talking through his nightmares would diminish their power over him.

" It was him Bobby… my….my dad. I couldn't see his face but I know it was him Bobby." The boy was struggling to get the words out and it broke Bobby's heart to see him like this but he knew all to well that if Jack did not talk his anger and pain would eventually destroy him. " He..he…God damn it he had some friends round and they were drunk and they all took turns, all of them Bobby" he sobbed. Bobby felt bile rise in his throat and fighting the urge to throw up he put his arm around his brother and calmly reassured him. " Your dads in jail ya little fairy, Ma put him there for what he did to you, he ain't ever getting out". " Don't call me that" he said weakly, but Bobby saw a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Fearing the moment would become to sentimental Bobby rose from the bed and turned at the doorway, " Want something to eat Jackie?" he asked. The kid shook his head and lay down. He knew he would not sleep tonight but he did not want Bobby to worry so he stayed as quiet as possible until he heard his brother turn and shut the door. Needing fresh air he jumped up, grabbed a jumper and tracksuit pants, jimmied the window and hopped out.

The crisp winter air felt like heaven against his prickling hot skin. He always felt like he was burning after a nightmare. At the thought of the word "burning" Jack felt the cigar scars on his arm tingle instinctively. Sitting on a swing in the park he was relieved to have a moment away from the house. With Ma gone Bobby, Angel and Jerry were all he had but they were always there. He never had a moment to himself. Jack often thought that they were worried about his mental health, what else would explain the constant smothering and companionship. As the first snow of winter began to fall Jack was pleased to have this moment of solace and isolation, but he was wrong.

Jack Mercer was not alone.


	4. The Phone Call

**A/N hah ya sorry about the cliffhanger but i just love them. This is quite a short chapter.**

**Enjoy**

Bobby Mercer sat in a worn out chair in the living room. He held the newspaper tightly in his hands but he scarcely took in what he was reading. He was thinking about Jack. He could not fathom how a grown man could hurt and abuse a kid, especially their own kid.

It would be so easy for Bobby to break Jack. He was smaller, lighter and more vulnerable then he was. It was these qualities that made it so difficult for Bobby to understand why anyone would hurt a kid like Jack. Bobby was the first to admit he was a violent man but that was in the name of family and making a better life for them. The men Bobby had fought with were grown adults capable of holding their own, what chance did a squirt like Jack have against a grown man? Before Jack had come to them he had never known men to be caring or compassionate, they had always been unscrupulous and deceitful. Bobby was the first man in Jacks life who did not expect anything from him. He was the first man who protected him from abuse instead of instigating it. Bobby was the sole male adult rolemodel in Jacks life, a responsibility he did not take lightly.

Suddenly he was interrupted by the _tring, tring, tring _of the phone in the foyer. "Who calls at 2am?" he wondered. "Bobby Mercer" bobby stated. " Mr Mercer I apologise for calling at this hour but it was vital that I reach you as soon as possible. This is detective Green from the Detroit police service, I am afraid I have some very worrying news concerning a member of your family."

Jack swung the swing in circles enjoying the peace. The snow covered ground shimmered in the light of the moon. Jack had finally found a place in this city that he could honestly say was beautiful, but he knew it would not last. Come morning civilians would drag their mucky boots through the sparkling snow, children would rake it up to build snowmen and engage in snowball fights. The boy was determined to enjoy this temporary utopia for as long as possible. Not a sound could be heard. The birds were asleep, the park was empty and the snow landed softly without the slightest patter, that is until Jack heard something crack to his left.

" Mr Mercer we have reason to believe your brother Jack Mercer is in grave danger, can you account for his whereabouts?" Bobby was surprised, whenever cops turned up it was to do with him or Angel or even Jerry, they were all prone to criminal behaviour but Jackie had never inherited that particular Mercer trait.

At the mention of danger Bobby dropped the phone and ran to Jacks bedroom, the light was off and the room empty. "Jackie, Jack, stop messing around kid" Bobby ran through the house roaring at the top of his lungs. When he was certain Jack was not in the house he ran back to the discarded phone. " He isn't here, what the hell is going on?" he bellowed down the line.

" We believe" Detective Green began but his voice was cut short when the line went dead. A man was standing in the Mercer living room with the phone plug swinging in his hands.

"Did you ask the bill payers permission for that phone call young man?" he laughed.


	5. The Tape

**A/N Thanks for the reviews guys, I really love knowing that other people appreciate what I write.**

**There are some racist themes here but please know that it is purely for the story and not how I personally feel.**

**Also its gonna get a little more violent in the coming chapters. Not to much but a little.**

**Enjoy**

Bobby stared at the intruder, to surprised to attack him. "Oh you don't need to listen to him anymore, I can fill you in" he chuckled darkly. Having recovered from his stupor Bobby launched himself at the man but it seemed he had been expecting that. Swiftly moving out of the way the intruder curled his hand into a fist and punched Bobby in the gut. As Bobby lay on the floor the man moved to stand over him.

" If you want to know what happened to the kid you would do well to shut the fuck up and listen" he snarled.

Angel appeared at the top of the stairs presumably woken by the noise. "What's going on Bobby?" he asked. "So this is the type of scum my son is living with" the man growled, when he saw Angels dark skin.

"Did you just say Jackie was your son?" Bobby roared. He had heard the atrocious stories of Jacks upbringing from his Ma and the kid himself, hell he saw the permanent damage this man had caused, and, standing at six foot three and two hundred and twenty pounds Bobby himself almost found this man intimidating. He had clearly looked after himself in prison.

Sensing Bobby was planning another assault the man quickly drew his gun. It was a nimble, black hand piece that did not look to threatening but at point-blank range their own mama would not recognise them. " Look I just come here to give you this" he stated throwing a tape to the top of the stairs where Angel stood.

"Go ahead and pick it up boy" he mocked. Conscious of the gun pointed in his direction Angel picked up the tape, he heard a scuffle but when he looked up the man was gone and Bobby was standing at the door screaming blue murder.

Ryan Martin drove like the devil was chasing him. Perhaps he was. In the four years he had been incarcerated he had thought longingly of this day. That wretch had stolen his life away from him. Ryan knew he did not have much time left but he could tolerate that knowing that Jacks time was running out too.

He wanted nothing more than to watch the light leave his sons eyes. He wanted to hear his son scream, no, beg for death. Jack was going to suffer and then when he was finally broken and pleading for the torture to end, he was going to die.

Ryan could feel another wave of nausea grip his stomach but he forced it down. He was going to enjoy brutalising his son, his own untimely death was going to have to wait. He could leave this world behind in peace knowing that his son had suffered to the bitter end.

Bobby and Angle wasted no time. They ran to the television and shoved the tape into the machine. The screen flickered to life but the brothers almost wished it hadn't. They saw a small room. It was made of some hard, grey stone and had no furniture. There was a window about ten feet up but it was barred with long metal poles; this room looked like a cell.

The most disturbing part was its occupant. Jack was chained to the wall by long rusty chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands held high above his head he didn't seem to be awake." Look up" a voice commanded in the background. Jack lifted his head, a large purple bruise was forming under his left eye and along the cheek, he had three deep scratch marks along his neck and it killed Bobby to speculate where they had come from.

"What's your name?" the voice asked. "Jack Mercer" was the reply." "Wrong answer" Ryan Martin came into view. He towered over the frightened boy, "What's your name" he bellowed kicking the boy in the ribs. "Jack Mercer" he repeated. It was this second act of defiance that saw Ryan throw himself into a frenzied attack. He kicked every part of his son that he could, bringing his boot down on his exposed torso he relented when an anguished cry told him his son was ready to be interrogated again. "What is your name?" he repeated breathing heavily. " Jack...Martin" the boy replied, broken in more ways than one.

Ryan Martin smiled to himself knowing how much fun this was going to be. Bobby could not bring himself to look at the screen any longer, he could not watch a father beat his son to death. Jack had suffered more in his first eighteen years of life than anyone he knew, how could anyone hurt a kid who looked like a frightened puppy.

"Bobby you'd better look at this" he heard Angel say. Bobby turned to face the screen. Ryan Martin was looking straight at the camera.

"Good evening Mercer household" he sang. " I hope all is well, but to be honest that is not quite why I have made this little visual journal. I have something that belongs to you only it does not belong to you. You stole my little money-maker from me and somebody has to pay up.

Due to current circumstances I no longer require money so I would rather you repay the debt with pain and there is no one I would like to see in pain more than little Jackie here" he said, grabbing Jack by the face and shaking him. "He stole the last years of my life from me and now I am going to steal his. Four days of pain for four years of jail time that ought to do it and then when there is just enough life in him to remain conscious I am going to slit his throat.

I expect you will be hearing from me again" Ryan said before the screen went black.


	6. The Aftermath

**Sorry for the long wait guys. I hate when people make excuses but I have been genuinely busy. We had relatives down that we dont see very often and then I had my debs to attend so I have been run ragged. This is a short chapter but I will update very soon I promise. As always enjoy! Also thanks to all my reviewers.**

Bobby and Angel were frantic. They were well aware of what Ryan Martin was capable of . He could tear Jackie in half and the brothers knew that was exactly what he had planned. " Four days of pain for four years of jail time" that terrible phrase rang over and over again in the minds of the horrified men.

For the first time since Evelyn had rescued him, Bobby felt beaten. It was his job to protect Jack from the Ryan Martins of this world, hell he did not even know where to start looking, the man had appeared and disappeared like a puff of air in the wind.

Pulling himself out of his frightened musings Bobby summoned Angel. " Ang call Jerry now, explain the situation and tell him to load up, we are going to need all the fire power we can muster to take this guy down." Angel nodded his head and rose without a word to carry out Bobby's order. " Wait a second Angel" Bobby called, " I hate myself for saying this but get La Vida Loca over here, we need someone to stay at the house in case Jackie or another tape shows up." Angels failure to rebuke Bobby for his childish name calling further highlighting the tense and dangerous situation.

" Im going out to look for Jackie, and im going to goddamn kill the little fairy for sneaking out and making us worry" Bobby growled, but Angel knew Bobby well enough to know that he did not mean a solitary word of what he had just said. Bobby was a complex creature, his exterior was brutal, cold and resilient and for a long time Angel believed he was just the same inside but after a few years of living together and especially when Jack joined the family, Angel knew there was far more to Bobby than met the eye.

For starters he was loyal, he would demolish anyone who threatened his family and would gladly risk a beating if it meant protecting his brothers. Secondly he flourished under Evelyns positive and nurturing presence. Her very existence gave him faith in other people.

It was Jacks arrival that truly conveyed Bobbys affectionate disposition. When the poor kid appeared at their door covered in gruesome bruises Bobbys eyes seemed to glaze over, it was almost as if he were no longer in the room. He just stared at Jackie with a shocking amount of compassion. Ever since the moment Bobby saw the shaking, beaten wreak that was Jack he made it his single mission in life to keep him content and secure, a successful mission until tonight.

If Jack did not make it home Angel could only imagine how Bobbys world would collapse.

Jack lay crumpled on the floor trapped not only within these harrowing walls but also within his own pain. He did not care that the shackles cut and chafed his wrists, he did not care that his torso burned at the slightest of movements and he did not care that his left cheek was red and inflamed, it was the pain in his mind that threatened to reduce the boy to a weeping, pitiful mess.

Jack Mercer knew what pain was. Almost every moment of his life as Jack Martin was painful but that was his life and he could take it, but this level of trepidation and anxiety engulfing his psyche was a force to be reckoned with. Physical pain was always manageable for it was a temporary state of being, bruises healed and the bleeding would stop eventually but the pure terror that had always seemed so close now threatened to consume his mind.

For mental deterioration was not only permanent but also a slow agonising descent into insanity, he would suffer the excruciating, agonising emotions but remain unable to save himself as his mind turned against him. He could only hope his death would be quick and he would find peace in the blissful darkness.


	7. The Second Tape

**A/N: I am so sorry for another late update but the last few weeks have been crazy. Absolutly NOTHING happens ALL Summer and then in the last three weeks I havent had time to breathe.**

**As always thanks for all the supportive reviews it means a lot. This chapter is quite dark and there is some gore and torture.**

**Enjoy :P**

The room that detained the semi conscious, shackled boy held the appearance of a cell. The room was roughly six foot wide and six foot long, made of thick impenetrable stone blocks. There was no furniture, the only trappings being a metal beam to confine and chain the battered boy.

Jack lifted his tired head when he heard a key opening the lock. He visibly paled when Ryan Martin entered the cell clutching his video camcorder. "How about making a little home movie, boy?" he mocked.

As Martin began assembling the tripod to hold his camera Jacks mind wandered back to that fateful moment in the park.

_He had been swinging aimlessly when a sudden noise penetrated the silent night. He stared at the man standing in front of him the moon and the trees casting perfect shadows on his large frame. As he began to move away from the creeping shadows, Jack began to feel the worry ache in his stomach, there was something frightening about the stranger. "How's it going Kid?" and there it was, it was that single moment that shattered Jacks fragile world. That rough threatening voice tore through the night decimating the protective walls Jack had painstakingly constructed. Jack stood stoic in the snow, paralysed with fear. He was not in the presence of a mere man. Ryan Martin could tear him limb from limb and dispose of his body no questions asked. When Jack was first introduced to his sordid line of work his very first customer was a close friend of his fathers, Officer Jeffries was his name. So the terrified boy allowed himself to be dragged to an inconspicuous silver car and thrown like a rag doll into the back seat._

He must have been struck over the head for the next thing he remembers was waking up in this prison with a blinding searing pain in his head.

Jack was pulled from his memories by a harsh slap to his face courtesy of Ryan Martin. The camera had been assembled and Martin was ready to shoot. " Hello again Mercer household" he screeched into the mounted camera. "Welcome to day two tape two." " As you can see the star of my movie is present and ready to roll. Shall we begin?" he asked the shivering boy.

Ryan reached down for a brown leather satchel that lay on the floor. He smirked as he removed a pair of rusting metal pliers. Jack, knowing what was to come, attempted to crawl as far from the crazed man as possible but he was tightly secured to the wall. Martin turned to face the camera once again, speaking in a gruff happy tone.

" When I was in prison" he began, " a group of inmates would play card games in a nearby cell. They would exchange large sums of money and these men were serious players. One night they were down a player and I was asked to fill in. I was more then happy to, being as I was an avid accomplished gambler however, I underestimated the extent to which felons will go to win. They cheated and schemed and before I knew where I was I had lost more money than I could afford to repay. Later that night they came to my cell with a pair of pliers not unlike these and removed four of my teeth.

Can you even begin to fathom the amount of pain removing four fully grown teeth without any painkillers would cause? The answer is probably no, but fret not, after our little session Jack himself can tell you" the man smirked.

Martin advanced on the boy. Jack was once again frozen with fear. He wanted to run, scream, cry, kick at Martin with all his strength, but all these complex impulses rooted him to the spot. A whimper escaped his bloody lips when the man roughly gripped his face between his fingers and thumb.

Shoving the pliers into his mouth, a harrowing scream echoed through the makeshift prison as the man tugged on his lateral incisor. With a final grunt from Martin the first tooth was removed. Blood gushed from the newly created cavern and rolled down the tear streaked face. The small pain filled gasps he emitted were heartbreaking.

Ryan continued his assault on Jack.

Clenching the pliers around the boys front tooth Martin pulled with all his strength. Jack roared and begged the man to stop.

Large tears were now streaming from his red eyes. Jacks clothes were stained a horrific red and the blood ran in rivulets down his bruised neck. The second tooth was proving difficult and the man only managed to pull three quarters of it. The rest lay in broken spiky fragments in his swollen gums. He decided he would leave it there, it looked terribly painful and would hopefully become infected.

The boy was beginning to lose consciousness, but Ryan Martin refused to allow him the slightest comfort. Slapping him awake he turned to the camera and asked the Mercer family if they were having an enjoyable movie night. An hour had passed and screams still emanated from the torture chamber.

The fourth and final tooth had just been ripped from the weeping child's mouth. The boy was almost unrecognisable. His mouth and jaw were swollen and the bruising surrounding his mouth severe. Blood poured from the four gaping holes in a never ending river of red.

Ryan Martin switched the camera off. He would drive to the Mercers and leave his little present for them. The man chuckled darkly to himself, he had forgotten how much pleasure he got from torturing his son. The man walked to the door and glanced at the figure sprawled on the hard floor.

What a pathetic excuse for a human being. It was people like Jack that were expendable, in Ryan Martins opinion the world did not require fragile, emotional, breakable people like Jack.

Ryan Martin was dying, he was in the final stages of alcoholic liver disease and he no longer tried to deny it, but he would not leave this world before he eradicated his son.

As he watched the blood swirl and pool around his sons lifeless form he smiled his first genuine smile in four years.


	8. The Drive Home

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers, I hope your still enjoying the story. **

**There is some slight swearing in this chapter. I dont swear as a rule but I felt the story demanded it.**

**Enjoy and please review :D**

Bobby sped through the filthy streets of the city in his beloved black truck. He saw dealers and prostitutes, pimps and runaways, but no Jack. He was hardly surprised though, Ryan Martin did not want to be found before he had, had his fun.

This city was home to some of the most sadistic people you could imagine. Some terrible crimes had occurred here and it seemed no one was safe. If a kind gentle old woman like Evelyn Mercer was not spared than God truly had abandoned this city. E

velyn was a staunch crusader for kids like Jack. She dedicated her life to saving abused children, it did not matter what they had done or where they had come from, Evelyn looked past their crimes and actions to the frightened child cowering beneath the false bravado.

As a child Bobby had never met an adult who didn't use him some way or another thus he was sceptical when he first met Evelyn. Sure she was all smiles and whispers now, but what about when they she got him alone? What then? No doubt that caring smile would disappear and be replaced with a scowl. He would be beaten for eating and locked up for speaking out of turn, just like all the other times.

But he soon learned how wrong he was. Evelyn Mercer could never harm another human being. In a few short weeks Bobby found out how loving an adult could be, he discovered that he was not warped and did not deserve to be abused.

In just six weeks Evelyn had turned an aggressive, emotionally unresponsive little boy into a happy content child. Bobby began smiling and looking her in the eye, and though it was only a small gesture it meant the world to the elderly woman. Bobby's foster father had once beaten him with a bicycle chain for giving him a funny look, whilst the boy lay recovering in the intensive care unit he told himself he would never trust an adult or look them in the eyes again for as long as he lived.

So if God could simply take her from this world and the people that needed her Bobby was not sure that this was a God he wanted to believe in. She was a true heroine, sacrificing her own safety everyday to save damaged kids, how did terminating the life of a true angel serve Gods agenda?

Bobby had always been sceptical of religion but he sensed there may be some form of higher power, sure the world could be cruel and sadistic at times but Bobby had also seen great acts of love. Though it was highly dangerous and possibly life threatening Evelyn had rushed into a motel room in the early hours of the morning to save a child, a teacher in Jacks old school had reported him as a possible child abuse victim, Bobby himself offered to be killed in the place of his brother that day when Sweets men shot Jackie.

Bobby knew there was good as well as evil in the city of Detroit, but this confrontation proved to him that it was a constant battle between good and evil and it seemed evil was gaining the upper hand. The Mercers could not lose another person close to them. They would not let it happen.

Though it broke his tortured heart to do it Bobby turned the truck around and began the arduous drive home. He knew he was not going to find Jack tonight and perhaps another tape or clue had been left at the house. Bobby parked the truck in the driveway and made his way to the door.

He had called Angel and Jerry from the car and having had no success they were also making their way home, if you could call it that. When Evelyn died all the happiness seemed to strip away, but when Jackie came home and settled back into his life the colour seemed to come back. Their lives were never going to feel the same again and there would always be that dull ache reminding them that something was missing but for the first time in ages the Mercers were reminded of what they still had.

Looking at Jack they could see Evelyn's compassion and warmth in his glowing eyes. Though not blood related Jack and Evelyn were kindred spirits, they were two human beings that belonged together. Jack needed a strong, loving figure in his life and Evelyn needed someone with whom she could share her wisdom and joy. Much like his adopted mother Jackie was a sensitive soul capable of deep care and empathy. He sometimes felt so burdened by the pain of others he would revert into himself and become mute for hours sometimes days, he had plans to save the world one child at a time and if anyone could do that it would be Jack Mercer.

Bobby closed the door and strode into the sitting room. Sofi was snoozing on the couch and for once Bobby was to drained to be annoyed by her presence. "Perhaps it was because she was unconscious" he mused.

He heard the front door open and turned to see a frightened Angel walk in closely followed by a bemused looking Jerry. He was clutching a tape in his quivering hand. " This was sitting on the windowsill outside" he said. Bobby grabbed the tape from his brothers hand and shoved it into the VCR.

The screen flickered into life and there was a beaten Jack trussed up in chains and locks. Martin slapped him in the face and turned to greet the horrified viewers " Hello again Mercer household" he said, . "Welcome to day two tape two." " As you can see the star of my movie is present and ready to roll. Shall we begin?".

The screaming emanating from the television woke the sleeping Sofi. "What's happening?" she asked in heavily accented English. The brothers ignored her unable to tear their eyes away from the nausea inducing sight. Before the final tooth had been pulled Angel was retching in the kitchen sink, large tears were rolling down Jerry's face and Bobby had injured his wrist violently punching the wall.

When the screen went dark the eldest Mercer rounded on the crying Latino. " This is all your Goddamn fault" he roared. " It was your job to stay here and call us if anything strange happened". " None of this is my fault" screamed the angry woman, " How the hell was I supposed to know he left the tape outside?" She retorted " You useless bitch" Bobby screamed as he ran out the door.

Evelyn had taught him never to swear around women but he could no longer contain the fiery rage building inside of him. He had gotten to the stage where he could no longer pretend that things were going to work out.

He had two more days to figure out where Jack was being held captive and if he did not find him by then….well…


	9. The Memories

Ryan Martin lay sprawled on the stained couch chuckling to himself. He wasn't sure if it was the entire bottle of whiskey he had drank or the fact that his son was slowly dying ten feet away but he was happy. He was in the final, tortures stages of severe liver failure so staying away from alcohol no longer seemed necessary, besides you needed the welcoming hazy hands of inebriation to cope with the pain. He thought back to when he had first been diagnosed. " You have two years maybe three" the prison doctor told him, yet here he was almost four years later still kicking. The end was drawing near now though, Ryan could feel it. Everyday his side throbbed with a fiercer intensity, the shortness of breath had increased and his once bronze skin was an ugly, sickening yellow. He was a man at deaths door but with Jack curled up dying on his floor he knew he could make his peace with that. He had just returned from his second visit to the Mercers house and had caught a glimpse of the stunning Latino sleeping on the couch. He had for a moment considered paying her a visit but he ultimately decided he could not risk one of the brothers walking in on him. He had managed to break away earlier as he had the element of surprise on his side, but he knew this would not work a second time, the Mercers were dangerous people and no doubt Bobby Mercer would be uncontrollable at this stage. He had been observing the family from prison using his contacts with the outside world and from what he could tell Bobby Mercer was a force to be reckoned with. Well built, ruthless and cunning this man did not need a weapon to intimidate anyone. Ryan had struck fear into the heart of a lethal man by threatening the thing he loved most. All of his sources had told him that Jack and Bobby were inseparable, Jack would trail after the older man like a puppy, eager to be a part of his life, the older man treated the younger boy with care and respect and looked out for him in a way that was different to that of the other brothers. Bobby almost acted as though the boy were made of glass, ensuring they didn't play to rough at hockey, even walking with his arm lazily slung around the kids shoulder. Ryan pondered whether there was something untoward going on with the two brothers behind closed doors but his source told him that this was not the case. "Break the kid and you break the family" his source had told him. He was not going to break Jack, he was going to annihilate him, when he was through there wouldn't be enough of his son to bury.

Jack lay gasping on the cold cement floor, dried blood itching his swollen face. His stomach having realised grumbling would not work was churning from hunger and had begun causing the boy to forcibly retch, though he had nothing to throw up. His arms and legs were bruised and bleeding from tugging on the rusting chains and his head, most likely concussed, was spinning. Every inch of Jacks thin body was in pain, whether it was the nausea in his stomach, the burning around his writs and ankles or the anvil-like throbbing in his head Jack was in the familiar arms of his past. Living with his mother and father had forced the boy to become accustomed to pain and accept it as a way of life, they had conditioned him to believe that when you stepped out of line or disobeyed an order the consequences would be severe, but life with Evelyn had taught him differently. The scars and bruises healed and though the memories remained they were distant and in a short while Jack could no longer feel his father pressing the cigarette into his thin arms burning the flesh, he could no longer hear the vile things spewing out of the mans mouth when he was drunk and his mom was working. Now all of those protective walls he had constructed came tumbling down around him, he was fourteen again and his dad towered over him taking pictures to show his "friends". He had hated posing for those pictures. It was always so cold and even though his dad had said it was ok he knew what they were doing was wrong. In his short life Jack had been a punching bag, a hustler and a burden, now at eighteen years old he was a prisoner. He had thought he was free from his dad and his old life, he had thought he was safe from his past, not for one second did the boy think it would catch up with him, but he was done running. At eighteen Jack Mercer had known every form of pain, degradation and loss now he was prepared to accept his fate and die. This life had been nothing but pain for him but he still held hope for the next one.


	10. The Dream

**A/N: **Thanks as always for reading. Please review, i want to know if the story is still engaging or if it has lost its appeal. I think it was at a standstill for a chapter or two, but i fully intend on picking up the pace.

Thanks to all my new reviewers

There are some mentions of child sexual abuse but it is only a vague mentioning. Also there is some swearing, again only slightly. Its funny because I felt quite impartial when I began this story back in June but now I genuinely feel guilty for what I am doing to Jack. It kind of reminds me of that movie with Logan Lerman where he controls the man inside the game, forcing him to compete in life or death scenarios. I literally feel like I am controlling poor Jackie against his will.

Ghostwriter: What does catch ya on the flip side mean? :D

**Enjoy :D**

Bobby Mercer had transformed into a madman. The generally composed man had become an inferno of explosive rage threatening to ignite at any second. No longer capable of rational thoughts or actions he had been reduced to a raving wreak. He swept through the small house like a hurricane demolishing everything in his path, determined to find a clue as to Jacks whereabouts.

Angel and Jerry simply stood by as they watched their brother destroy their home, they knew better than to attempt to control the mans rage. In life there are two distinct ways in which a violent aggressive person can live. They can allow their temperamental tendencies to control them, throw their inhibitions to the wind and allow for the lava building within them to erupt at will, and then there is the other kind of person.

They force their rage into a deep cavern within themselves, suppressing all the pain and injustice they feel, they allow it to fester inside of them until, much like a fungus it grows into an unstoppable uncontainable disease. Once this toxic power is triggered all hell breaks loose, the once seemingly controlled subject is now an uncontrollable source of aggression.

Eventually the thin line created between your identities blurs together until the content you and the angry you are the same raging person. It is frightening how little it takes for the mind to create this unwavering person. A hard childhood, a hard adulthood, any grief can warp the impulse settings in our brains and turn us into this terrifying person who can transform into the beast and consume those around it at a moments whim.

Bobby had become this person.

All the pain and resentment that he had felt in his life had returned with a vengeance, Bobby Mercer was going to tear Ryan Martin apart. It would be a slow, unbearable death which would leave the man broken. The man would be pleading on his knees for mercy but Bobby would merely laugh as he sliced the man from chin to chest.

Jack slowly raised his head. He must have passed out again. It seemed to be happening alarmingly often now and the boy understood what that meant.

His starved, beaten body was going into shock mode and had begun shutting down. No doubt there was some internal bleeding and his body had probably begun breaking down muscle to prevent starvation but it was all in vain. It was his body's sense of self preservation that was killing him.

If he did not escape this hell soon. he would die. He had already made his peace with his mortality and the possibility of dying from this ordeal but he could not stomach the thought of his father being the one who ended it for him. Jack Mercer had made up his mind.

He was going to escape to freedom today or hang himself with the rusting chains. It would be one or the other.

Ryan Martin was excited. He had fallen asleep on the mouldy couch and had laid witness to an inspiring dream. It was actually more of a memory.

DREAM SEQUENCE

_Jack Mercer sat shivering on the worn patched couch in the filthy apartment. Today was his tenth birthday and everyone had forgotten, or else they simply just did not care. The child presumed it was the latter for he had never celebrated a birthday. _

_The Martins never celebrated any of the traditional holidays or rites of passage. The child had never received a present in all of his ten years. _

_Ryan Martin strolled into the room and sat down next to his son. The child became noticeably anxious, tension was always high when his father was in the room._

_ Both Jack and his father heard the door slam and a tired, intoxicated Michelle limped in. Throwing a few notes to her boyfriend she walked to the refrigerator and scanned its contents. She grabbed the only item in the fridge; a beer. _

_Suddenly Ryan was on his feet glaring at the woman. " You think you have the right to drink my beer when all you bring home is a few measly bucks!" the man bellowed. " You ain't working hard enough you goddamn whore" he screamed. " Not surprising men don't want your skanky old ass when they can have a girl half your age" he yelled at his unresponsive wife. He was distracted by sniffling behind him and turned to see his son covering his ears with his hands, large tears crawling down his pale face. " Stop your crying you fucking baby."_

_He was surprised when he looked at his son and suddenly realised that his son had attractive features. It was in that horrific moment that Ryan saw the dollar signs. Guys may not pay top dollars to sleep with his wife, but almost anyone would pay through the nose for some privacy with his appealing son. _

_He turned from his wife, grabbed his son by his scrawny wrist and dragged him to the door and down the stairs. They stood at the corner for a brief ten minutes before a John stopped his car. " How much?" he asked through the partially rolled down window. Ryan thought for a moment before stating his price. " one hundred for the hour." " I will give you five hundred for the night" the man purred, lust and desperation seeping from his pores. "Agreed!" Ryan pocketed the money and shoved his crying child into the strangers car. _

_Jack returned the next morning a different boy. His face was badly bruised and his walk slow and tentative as if he hurt a great deal but the change was more emotional than physical. His eyes were grey and dead as though they had seen the true brutal colours of this earth; and indeed they had. But the thing that struck the most was that Jack no longer cried, for he knew it would do him no good. _

_The harder he had cried the more excited the stranger had become. Ryan gave himself a clap on the back. He had found an easy sustainable source of income and also a way to control the boy. He could not help but feel a sense of pleasure at the sight of his broken, submissive son. _

Ryan awoke from his dream inspired. So far he had relished the pain he was inflicted on the boy but he knew there was something missing, he was aware that although the boy was beaten almost senseless there was a minute shred of hope and dignity somewhere deep within him. You could see it in his tortured blue eyes, a light the size of a pinprick growing within him.

It was indeed tiny but sometimes that is all a person needs. Fortunately Ryan had concocted a plan in which he could dampen the light permanently. It was time his little money maker learned his place.

He knew just how to do that but he was going to need some outside help and he knew just the man to call.

After what seemed like an age Bobby had managed to regain some self control but not before he had dismantled the majority of the small two storey house. He paced the tiled kitchen desperate for that light bulb to go off in is head. He looked at the worried faces around him, resting his eyes on Sofi last. He could feel the fury returning as he thought about her snoozing on the couch but then DING!

There it was, the light bulb, a flash of hope. For the first time in over forty eight hours the man smiled.

He had a plan.


	11. The Client

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews.

Sorry for the cliffhanger tearsXsolitude but i do love them :P

This one is a very short chapter, its only around 400 words.

There are some mentions of sexual abuse but as usual nothing graphic.

**Enjoy :D and review please!**

Ryan Martin chuckled darkly to himself as he placed the archaic nokia phone back into his pocket. He had just spoken to an old friend who had kindly agreed to help him carry out his vendetta against the boy.

Truth be told his friend very much wished to see Jack again, it had been, in his opinion, far to long. The man whose services Ryan had just acquired was Brent Williams a Detroit local.

It just so happens Brent was Jacks first client that fateful night eight years ago. He was a sadist who viewed prostitutes as vermin and relished treating them as such. He had bought the services of dozens of hustlers in his life but that boy with the stunning blue eyes had by far been his favourite.

It was Brent's prerogative to pick out an appealing feature from the hooker to remember them, he refused to use their names as it made it more difficult to dehumanise them.

At eighteen blue eyes was a couple of years older than he liked but there was something about the fragile, damaged way he held himself that appealed to the loathsome man. He remembered with glee how the boy had cried and begged to be released and knew at once that the child had become his new favourite toy.

To him prostitutes were objects to be used and dumped when they burned out, nothing more. For Brent it was not just about the sex, oh no, it was about the unyielding power and control he had over these people. The more they recoiled from his touch the better, the louder they screamed the more fun it would be.

The icing on the cake was that demoralised, fragmented look of pure shame, their weeping eyes showcasing their splintered souls. Had they the misfortune to encounter Brent they would not forget him. He saw it as his duty to brutalise them to the extent that every sexual experience consensual or otherwise would feel profane. He would turn what was considered a natural loving act into a debauch, illicit memory.

"Yes" he said out loud to himself, he was defiantly looking forward to seeing his former plaything again.


	12. The House

**A/N **Ok guys I am really sorry for not updating in a while. I want to dedicate this chapter to ThrillerAddict. I was in a bit of a rut and though I know how this story ends I was having trouble focusing and sitting down to type it. I got a review from Thriller Addict and it really spurred me on so thanks ThrillerAddict.

This chapter is quite short and not much happens, its more of an explanation of sorts. I had not originally planned to write this part but I realised that I had not given any insight as to where Jack was being held captive. Because it is so short I shall definatly be updating in the next day or two.

Thanks to all of my reviewers and subscribers.

**Enjoy :D**

Brent Williams parked his car outside the large formerly gentry house on the outskirts of the city. It was a stunning building that once belonged to an Irish Gentry family, who, after the famine of 1845 relocated to Detroit.

They built this awe inspiring estate complete with stables and tennis court in an attempt to forget the horrors they had witnessed. Alas it failed. Their lavish surroundings spawned a deep rooted sense of guilt.

They had fled from Ireland leaving behind hundreds of starving tenants. The family decided to sell the luxurious property to an American business man, and promptly retuned to Ireland with their money, in an attempt to ease the peoples plight.

Unlike so many other gentry homes it had been purchased by a man intent on enhancing its archaic beauty thus when his stately home needed repairs he employed only the finest to manage the problem whilst keeping with the aged décor.

Regrettably men such as this were a dying breed. His children became young adults eager to leave the nest, the city was falling prey to criminals and he lost his beloved Anna to cancer. In less than six months this man who had everything, money, family, success, had found himself very much alone.

He was to discover much to his dismay that being a wealthy man meant little when you had no one to share it with.

His daughter had recently become engaged to a young business tycoon with the world at his feet and his youngest child had been accepted to Harvard. Both of his children could afford to live independently and seemingly did not require their fathers presence or guidance any more.

He had provided a life of unimaginable wealth for his children but now it seemed he had failed to teach them the most basic of lessons, money comes and goes as do friends and partners, but your family is the one constant light in your life, to keep you grounded and secure. Without family what are we but soulless entities questioning our very existence? As a father this poor man could not imagine being abandoned by his own flesh and blood.

With a sigh the man picked up a black and white photo in an antique silver frame.

Anna beamed back at him, her eyes shining, and her face aglow with joy. This was the Anna he wanted to remember for all eternity, not the ill Anna whose skin became grey and dry, whose lips became patched and bloody, whose very body turned against her robbing her of her youth and eventually her joy.

The tears were flowing freely down his face now. With one last withering look at the precious photograph he raised the revolver to his head, pulled the trigger and fell to the floor clutching the picture in his lifeless hands.

After the tragedy that befell the house no one was brave enough to purchase it. It soon fell into disarray. Ivy and shrubbery clung to the old brick walls and forced their way through the shattered windows, the boarded up doorways were covered in endless layers of offensive graffiti and the crumbling roof was home to a colony of bats, much appreciative of the shelter it provided.

Though desolate and abandoned Brent still found the property to have an innate beauty to it. A house so immersed in history it carried a mysterious, fascinating vibe. " Yes" Brent thought to himself " this house was the perfect prison. " No one would hear the boys pathetic screams for miles apart."

Brent made his way to the back of the house. The boy was being contained in the stables and Brent could feel his heart palpitating as he drew closer to his prize. It had been almost five years since he had last been able to "play" with the boy, and he was eager to make the most of their limited time together. The man rapped lightly on the wood of the door and smiled to himself when Ryan Martins head peered cautiously out.

" Glad to see you could make it" Martin boomed, extending his shaking hand. " Tremors" he sighed, to which Brent merely nodded. He cared little for Ryan Martin, however, being Jacks most recurrent customer, he had found himself face to face with the man on many an occasion.

" What's the plan" he gasped. He was finding it more and more difficult to control himself, sweat poured down his forehead and he was nervously wringing his hands. Brent prided himself on his remarkable sense of composure, but this kid did something to him. He turned every rational thought in the mans mind into a muddled mess, he made the mans heart beat and his head spin simply from touching him, when he looked at the broken distraught face of the boy all Brent wanted was to use him like the toy he was and throw away the sullied, abused remains.

Ryan Martin smiled an evil smile as he looked at the wreak Brent had been reduced to. Never had he witnessed the man so desperate before, he was practically begging for a piece of his son, and Martin had no problem delivering.

"Well" the man purred between his yellow teeth, " you and I are going to make a little video, I shall be the director and you and my bastard son are going to be the stars. How does that sound?"

**Theres not long to go now guys, maybe another two chapters. Please review, I am interested to know what people think, weather you love it, hate it or dont care at all. Thanks Again!**


	13. The Third Tape

**A/N** **Ok now this is where it gets tough. This chapter is quite gritty and boy was it hard to write. We have some major Jack suffering going on here. There is some language and sexual abuse but not graphic.**

**Thanks to all of my reviewers. I appreciate the time taken to comment on the chapters :D**

**Enjoy**

* * *

><p>Jack Mercer lay sprawled on the stable floor, his bleeding arms wrapped around his damaged ribs. The pain they caused when touched shot through his thin frame, but it eased slightly if he held them tightly his arms mimicking bandages. Five minutes prior his… "father" had unshackled his wrists and stalked out of the room. He had no idea as to what was going on but with Ryan Martin in the picture he knew it would not be anything good.<p>

His suspicions proved correct when he heard Ryan unlock the heavy metal bolt and strode in closely followed by a man who made Jacks entire body spasm with fear. " Time for a little fun Jackie" Ryan grunted.

Bobby Mercer sat at the mahogany table surrounded by his family. Long gone was the feeling of uselessness and in its place had come an air of control. Throughout this harrowing ideal, Bobby had been the mad man chasing around the grossly over populated city. He had punched walls, berated his family and threatened his brothers girlfriend and in that time he had not found himself any closer to finding his kid brother.

But now with the astounding feeling of a plan forming in his bewildered mind he had been stirred into action, only this time productive action. "Ok guys listen up, we can only assume that with Loco playing sleeping beauty on the couch that creep Martin musta had a quick look. Presumably he would have shoved the tape through the slot like the other times but this time he couldn't, so he leaves it outside for us to find later, now from the handprints left in the snow on the window sill he clearly has a thing for Miss Thang over there", " Hey watch it" Bobby smirked after receiving a thump from Sofie. " Now we only have a few hours before the third tape shows up, what we need to do is recreate the events of last night only this time there will be a happier ending.

Jack stared in abject horror as Brent extended his meaty hand with the intention of stroking his face. He attempted to crawl backwards and escape his tormentors reach but he was still chained by the ankles, much like when he was a child he could not evade this repugnant man and his perverted desires.

His father had just assembled the camera and tripod, the little red light telling Jack that in less then twenty seconds the last of his resolve to live would come crumbling down and dissolve into burning, pitiful ashes. The beatings though severe were not enough to break him, the relentless reminders of his brothers had almost killed him but if this man so much as looked at him with those lust filled eyes Jack knew that if his father did not finish him he would finish himself.

Ryan stood jovially in front of the camera. " Good day Mercers, I hope all is well. I have something a little different for you today. Now normally I take full credit for my home movies but I decided to call in some extra help for today's show. I have here a man who I suppose could be considered an expert in this field. He has kindly agreed to show you what happens when you turn your back on your family and your calling. My son is nothing but a damn whore. Nothing you or that bitch mother of yours can do will ever change that, oh wait that bitch mother of yours is dead isn't she? My condolences.

All that's left to say is sit back, relax and enjoy the show. I know I will."

Jacks beaten body tensed as he felt Brent's sweaty hands roaming down his chest, closing his eyes he prayed perhaps for the millionth time for God, Bobby or anyone to take away his pain. Large tears coursed down his cheeks as he felt Brent's hand slide under his jeans.

It had been four years since Evelyn had saved him from his father, four years since he had been forced to have sex for money and four years since he had been called a whore. It was nauseating that just four years later Jack had found himself in exactly the same position Evelyn had rescued him from, he was broken and bloody on a filthy floor being abused as his father videotaped it.

Well Ryan Martin had proved his point, sometimes you can not escape from your fate, and for Jack there was no escape. It no longer mattered what happened, live or die Jack had no future. If he died, he ceased to be, if he lived he could never look his family in the eyes, not after they saw this tape, besides an ordeal such as this would leave even the strongest emotionally dead, how do you reach out to others when you have bared witness to the very worst of society? How do you survive in a world that has victimised you since birth?

Brent slid his hand into Jacks boxers and using his other hand gripped the boys face tightly. He pressed his lips against the boys in a bruising kiss, " You like that don't you, you damn slut?" Jack remained mute refusing to excite the man. " I asked you a question" Brent growled slapping the boy with tremendous force. "Now tell me you like it" With the pigs other hand squeezing tightly between his legs he had no choice. " I…I like it" he sobbed. "Because you're a…" Because I am a…" no he could not say it, the only thing keeping him sane was that he did not believe what these men were telling him, by saying it he was submitting to them. Brent gripped the boys crotch like a vice and laughed when Jack cried out in pain. "Tell me why you like it slut" "Because I am a whore" he cried breaking down into tears that wracked his entire body. " My whore" Brent corrected. " Your Whore"

Ryan Martin was ecstatic as he watched the man molest his son. His plan had worked. The Mercers would become distraught with grief when they saw this and that irritating flash of hope ever present in Jacks eyes had died. Ryan had killed two birds with one stone.

All he needed now was some extra footage from this, the tape to be delivered and tomorrow he would slit Jacks throat. Ryan watched in fascination as Brent forced Jack onto his knees. "Open up nice and wide he cajoled."

When Brent was finished he stood up, zipped his fly and gazed at the quivering mess formerly known as Jack. "You should be proud of yourself boy, you're a good screw. Not many whores hear that, its like my mama always said you have got to stick with what your good at. It's just a pity this will be all your ever good at.

Tell me do you give every guy you know a turn? I bet you do. You don't need to be ashamed, everyone has a place, I guess yours is on your knees, or on all fours. Speaking of which we did not have the opportunity to become as intimate as I wished, as a respectable man I have prior commitments so you and I shall continue this little get together tomorrow and by God you will do as you are told. Don't worry though I will bring some of my toys so you wont have to do all the work."

" Say goodbye to your Master" Ryan piped in. Jack stared at his father silently pleading with him to spare him this final humiliation. When Ryan's eyes shifted dangerously Jack knew better than to argue. Shuffling forward Jack put his nose to the ground in a subservient position and with his head screaming "coward" at him, he mumbled a "goodbye master." Good boy Brent purred patting Jacks head as though he were a dog.

Ryan Martin switched the camera off, after the display he had just witnessed he was eager to relieve himself but he was not as camera comfortable as Brent Williams. He ushered the man out and walked back inside for a little one-on-one time with his son.

He had never used the kid like this before but he would be lying if he said it never crossed his mind. Perfect strangers had paid good money for some alone time with his son so he must be good at it, Ryan reasoned.

Jack gazed in fear as his father came back into his prison, he knew that look, he had seen it one hundred times before. "No no no no no no" he screamed over and over again. He could not do it again. " Please" he begged, " you can't do this, I am your son." Ryan was beyond reason, all he could see beyond his lust hazed eyes was an attractive boy already on his knees and pleading. He stood in front of his shaking son, unzipped his trousers and ordered him to "get to work."

Seeing he had no choice Jack wiped his eyes dry and accepted his fate.

* * *

><p><strong>Damn I hate writing about Brent, he is such a sleaze, but he is necessary to my story. Things are going to come to a head soon. There will be more Bobby in the next chapter. Poor Jack I really feel bad for him, which is strange because I am the one hurting him. Oh the irony :P Please review guys, I want to know where ye think the story is at. Also how do ye think I am going to end it?, I already know but I want to see if I am predictable.<strong>


	14. The plan

**A/N: Ok guys I know how long it has been since I uploaded a chapter and for that I am sorry and though I am not trying to make excuses I really cannot find the words for how hectic the last couple of months have been. But I am back writing and this is really only a short chapter a teaser for what is to come. and i will have the next chapter up in around 2 days. As always enjoy and thanks for sticking with me. Were almost at the end.**

Ryan Martin, took one last withering look at his son before he left the makeshift prison. The pathetic boy was slumped on the floor like a broken doll. A mass of wounds and bruises, he lay desolate and destroyed not from the violence but from the unwelcome return to his roots.

The older mans mission was complete, he had taken everything from Jack, his family his home, his freedom and eventually the thing that made him the most vulnerable, his body. The boy would die, Martin had no doubt yet he still toyed with the idea of letting him live. It would be the greatest form of vengeance. To give the boy no choice but to plough through his shameful, degrading life, how would he hold his head high knowing the things he had done? How could he look his precious family in the eye and tell them he was alright? Particularly after they have seen the final tape.

But no, he had come this far, in the next hour Jack would be tied in the back of his van, the tape would be reaching its final destination and he would bring a sharpened blade to his sons useless throat.

Bobby Mercers plan had reached the final stage of planning. It was really quite simple. That foul man would arrive to deliver the final tape and like before Sofie would appear to be resting on the couch. Presumably Martin would again stay to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Latina. Jerry would be lying in wait to protect Sofie whilst Angel and Bobby would be crouching low in a car waiting for Ryan to lead them to their brother. After they had Jack safely in their grasp Bobby promised himself he would make the boys bastard father suffer.

"Not a complicated plan" Bobby addressed the room, "but that is presuming he will repeat his actions. We need to be able to improvise if he spots us or figures out what we are doing" he finished solemnly.

Jack Mercer stared at the harsh stone floor he was currently sprawled on. He had not moved a muscle since the depraved attack his father and Brent had subjected him to. He had not even shed one single tear, consumed by an overwhelming despair his ravaged body had no room for other emotions.

Mentally Jack Mercer was dead. He knew in his heart and soul that if by some minute chance his life were spared it would do little good. "Bobby would be so ashamed of me", the boy thought to himself. As the pain raged inside his body the tortured boy wondered when death would grace him with its presence.

Soon he hoped, he did not know how much more of this he could take. What he did know was that the first chance he got he would rip his throat out before his father could have the pleasure. In the sheer cold and frightful of death Jack Mercer planned to have the last laugh.


	15. The Place where it All began

**A/N:** Ok guys well this is Chapter 15. I am quite happy with this one but I wasn't really pleased with 14, so I hope ye like this and more is definitely on the way. I'm really in the swing of things now and I will be updating shortly. Only one or two more chapters I reckon.

**ENJOY :)**

Jack Mercer struggled to open his swollen eyes when he heard someone enter the stable that had become his crypt, though he did not need to. The mere stench of alcohol and cheap cigarette's told him it was his father.

He forced his eyes open upon hearing the cold metallic clink of iron. The repulsive creature was shackling his legs together with what appeared to be a rusting bike chain with barbed wire wrapped around it. To ward off any attempts to rip it from his legs, Jack presumed. Clearly his father felt Jack wanted to live. "What a costly mistake" he thought.

There is nothing more dangerous than a man who no longer values his own life; he suddenly becomes a threat to everyone. Martin proceeded to unchain Jack from the wall. Forcing him to his feet Jack could not stop the pitiful moan that escaped his lips.

His legs virtually flailed from his father's belt burned with the intensity of molten lava. Every step he took causing open sores to bleed. After what seemed an eternity they reached the door and the boy took his first breath of fresh air in days.

It was dusk and the snow continued to fall on the palatial estate. Though his skin pulsated fire only moments before his bones now ached as though penetrated by ice. As frozen glass stabbed his lungs the boy was thrown onto the hard floor of the vehicle.

"I guess this is it" he told himself. "Bobby I wish…. I wish you knew how much I loved you and Mom and the boys. I wish I could tell you how scared I was when I first came and how much it meant to have a man look out for me just because he wanted to. Bobby I… I don't know.

The van parked across from the house. He would survey it as he had done all of the other nights to make sure the Mercer men weren't home. A boy he could handle but Bobby Mercer was a specimen of pure untamed rage.

He was notorious for his violent assaults on the hockey field but aside from his brute strength Bobby Mercer was smart. And the last person you want to fight with is an intelligent juggernaut.

After half an hour of mind numbing boredom the man decided the house was empty. He silently stepped out of the battered truck and crawled under the window ledge. The ravishing Latina was lying on the old sofa just as before.

He was tempted to break with the schedule for some quality time with the breath-taking woman but decided that it was far to risky, even for a woman as stunning as her.

Distracted by Sofia, Martin still remained oblivious to the two men parked in the black vehicle only metres away. He was also unaware of Bobby Mercer crouching behind the Garden wall seething with fury.

It was taking all of the man's self-control to stop him from hurling himself at Martin and pummelling his face into oblivion. Once he had Jackie safely in his grasp he would wipe the filth that was his father of the face of the earth.

Jack struggled to rip the chain from his legs. His fingers had become ragged and torn from the rusty barbed wire but he didn't care, it was just more blood to him. He briefly acknowledged how detached from the situation he had become.

Live or die it really did not concern him. All that mattered now was that he be the one to end it all.

This meagre amount of control he had gained amused him. How ironic it seemed that in planning his suicide he had found a hidden source of power. For the first time in what seemed far to long Jack Mercer felt his mouth twitch into a brief smile.

He had finally managed to tear the chain from his ankles when he felt the truck move as his father heaved himself into the driver's seat. The vehicle spluttered to life and began its short journey to the place where it all began.

**Please review :)**


	16. The Journal

**A/N: **Well this is it THE END. Its actually surprisingly hard letting the story go after all the time I put into it. I hope ye like it and please review as this is the final chapter. Thanks to my reviewers from the other chapters.

ENJOY :)

The truck skidded to a halt on the Ice at the park. It was at this very place that Ryan Martin had snatched his son from his happy, stable life and it was here surrounded, by the boy's memories, that he would slit his throat.

He took a moment to breathe in the clean, choppy air. He knew that in every likelihood he would return to prison to live out his days, limited as they were, but for the first time since the boy had been taken in by that old woman Ryan felt as though life was finally playing out like it should have. He could never have lived in a world where his bastard son had everything and he was just an unemployed ex-con. This was just, this was fair. This is how things were supposed to be.

With his thoughts resonating in his head he dragged his son from the car.

It was then that he noticed there was far more blood on the truck floor than there should have been. Jack had cut his own throat with the rusting barbed wire.

Almost as if on cue Ryan Martin heard police sirens and gazed in horror as two police cars and the Mercers vehicle screeched to a stop near the curb. He flung the lifeless boy to the ground in a final act of defiance and stood stoic as he was apprehended by a burly police officer. He seemed overwhelmed with the shock of what had just happened. Months of meticulous planning, hours wasted surveying the house, time that was precious to him gone, and for what, so the pathetic excuse for a person could take his own life. He briefly caught a glimpse of Bobby Mercer leaning down next to the body and whispering something, before he was shoved into the back seat of the squad car.

Bobby Mercer sat on his haunches in the Detroit snow and ran his hand through his brother's hair. Tears ran steadily down his red face.

He almost jumped when Jack emitted a low hiss. The boy's neck was mutilated beyond repair with wide lacerations spewing blood like water from a tap. He had moments of this life left and Bobby knew this was the time to say goodbye; the only chance he would ever get.

"Listen ya fairy" he began, "you're gonna be fine. We're gonna get ya to a hospital and it's all gonna be fine. Were your brothers, we'll take care of ya.

Jack looked up at his brother. He didn't need to say all of the things he had wanted to before, Bobby already knew, Jack was sure of it. So instead of gushing clichéd goodbyes he looked his brother in the eyes and spluttered "I aint no fairy" before he welcomed the eternal darkness.

Bobby took in his surroundings. He was in the snow covered park, his hands drenched in Jackie's blood. Officers of the law permeating self-importance were taking statements and Ryan Martin sat in quiet contentment in the back of a squad car. Fuelled by grief Bobby ran at the car before anyone could stop him.

He held a nine mill revolver to the man's head as he wrenched the door open, his temper intensifying as the man's face remained emotionless. He cocked the piece and put pressure on the trigger when he heard Angel and Jerry come up behind him. "Bobby don't do this" Angel pleaded. "Weve already lost one brother, don't make us lose another" Jeremiah added. "You saw what this animal did to him" Bobby snarled, the tears making an unwelcome return. "Do you think Jackie would have wanted you to go to prison for the rest of your Life?" Angel refuted. Bobby looked back to where Jackie lay, a coroner laying a sheet over his body as they rolled him away. Gazing at his other brothers he saw the same anguish, the same despair in them that he felt now. He bitterly threw the gun into the snow before stalking off back to his car where he could be alone.

Bobby, Jerry and Angel Mercer imprisoned themselves in their house. It had been three days since Jack had been so cruelly taken from them. None of the men had spoken to each other since "it" happened. Bobby no longer knew if he could talk, every movement, every thought made him feel like Ryan Martin himself were ripping his lungs out.

"Was this going to be it for them" Bobby wondered. Would every memory of their loving brother cause so much agony that they would want to kill themselves too?" They had destroyed the final video tape without ever watching it. They knew how horrific the torture must have been to make the strong, resilient boy end his life and they agreed they had already witnessed enough of Jacks pain. He was sitting on Jackie's bedroom floor. It was strange but he could still smell him. The musky hair gel and the cheap cologne. The tormented man rose from his seat on the floor and punched the wall in his frustration. He barely looked when he knocked a couple of books but took a double take when he recognised a red journal with an aged leather jacket.

Bobby called his siblings and walked into the living room tightly clutching the journal. When his brothers came he asked them if they remembered the book. When they shook their heads Bobby explained it to them.

"He came here with it. Mom gave it to him when he was in the hospital and had just found out he was going to have a new family. He had told her that he didn't have anything worth bringing to her house so she bought him the journal and told him to write about himself and his new life so he could have something comforting to bring with him. He documented everything in this old thing."

The trio laughed as they turned the dusty pages of the journal. Jackie beamed back at them from a small black and white photograph.

He must have been only fourteen, his long gangly arms clawing at Bobby's as the older boy held him in a headlock. The entry went on to describe how this was his first physical contact with a man that had not frightened him. It was in that moment looking at the happy memories the brothers had that Bobby Mercer made up his mind. He was not going to let Ryan Martin soil his memories of Jack, he would deal with his loss not let it chip away at him until there was nothing left. And when he would stir in the night, trapped between the blurry unconscious and his bleak reality the book would allow him to think of the bright eyed boy who had lived for music and family; and it wouldn't hurt.

That's not to say there would not be days where the miseries of his life would not tear at him but he was going to make something of all of this pain.

He was not going to let Jacks death destroy their small family, for family had meant everything to the boy.

And on those days when Bobby would feel his resolve to carry on falter he would think of the red journal and the hope it had given him that day. He would remember how the light had filled his body and reminded him to live not just for himself but for Jack.

**THE END.**


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